Flame
by ADoubtfulGuest
Summary: Home is where you make it, love, don't get yourself confused. Todd/Lovett. Chapter nineteen is about secrets; he keeps them, she simply smiles. She smiles, and what with the way that she does so, they're all but sure that the two are lovers.
1. Chapter 1

I. Time is so _relative_

(to them)

it's like the rhythmic way that the ghosts (haunt)

The lives they lead (on?) are on shaky ground

_Palpable._

II. The blood is there to remind him

things are just too **right **to be _humane_

(human?)

And the birds still _sing _so Life goes on (softly)

III. **breathing** passes the

_time_

passes

_time_

left to **breath**

and the poems in his head are just as slow and silent as the _time_

Tick

Tock

Sick

Tock

Tick

and

Lock the thoughts away

IV. His pulse is the (same)

monotone

Like those _words _that are the **same **

backwards as they are (forwards)

V. _Colors _have scents (did you know, did you)

she notes

the mother walking by (_mother,_ such a word, such a knife on your tongue)

bouncing and singing and smiling at the smile

_like a photo negative_

it doesn't really need to make sense

_my, my, my-ah, I'm so proud of you._

VI. There is no _pride_

only filth.

Sing them a song

(won't you?)

And they'll _sing it right back_

Because if ignorance is bliss then their smiles are oblivious

VII. Wishing on (_Stars? Candles?)_

**Fire**

Are you?

_They are. _And they'll get **smoke **in no time, just like _that_

(certainly makes sense to me)

VIII. Meaningless **like**

_Someone else's song _on your lips

she's _young _and her (eyes) smile is **nervous**

but everyone's an (accident waiting to happen) _actress _these days

And you can **hear the proof**

_My, my, my-ah, look at that fi-yah._

IX. Time is only as _relative _as

their sleeping pattern, _because_

Day is light

and dark is night

(right?)

* * *

**A/N: **I like this style. It makes me happy, and it hardly makes any sense. The movie belongs to Tim Burton, you know? Not me. The summary is from Taking Back Sunday's The Union. Yay.


	2. Dude, where's my car?

I. His heart (beat) is a _tell-tale sign_

that war **never ends**

(But when does it even start in the first place?)

The first shot _reverberates _like

the echo of something he never.even.said.

II. Obsidian orbs like _glass_

(but hardly as stable)

And she can see it in his **eyes**

Hideous

And

Lying

And

Fragmented

And

Lost

Eyes like _glass_

_Like mirrors_

III. You'd do anything, you say?

Think?

Know? You think you _know._

Anything is only **approximate **

When it comes to (second?) chances

You'd do _anything? _You **swear?**

IV. _Words, she thinks,_

_have their own conversations_

**Looking down **upon (each other?)

And succumbing _only _to silence;

_Silence, she thinks,_

_has its own _language.

V. So many **words **

And _nothing _to say. Because really

What we have

(there)

is a case of

**So many words**

that all mean the _same thing._

(And she says it over and over and over and he never even looks)

VI. Once she **claims **the role,

she notices just how much

she (enjoys? loathes? accepts?) _Fits _it

(like a glove that sticks to the melting skin)

VII. He used to let his mind **race**

but it seemed a _competition _never to be (won?)

And so now

his thoughts mingle

like a _burden_

when did it become an **attempt **not to break **down? up?**

_Oh, _how she would just _love _

to

see

_(this)_

is the color of blood

before it _spills_

VIII. They've _long _since

parted with **unspoken conversations**

and penetrated the desire that is

senseless companionship

_silence_

(she thinks)

Has it's own **language**

like something she

never.even.said.

**A/N: **Dood, chapter two D No way.

I was actually thinking of complaining about lack of reviews in this space, but I'm deciding against it. You know why? Because my reviewers rock. They own your soul. They're thoughtful, and constructive, and clever, and above all else, they're grammar is usually flawless. I'll take four reviewers like that over twenty tweenies any day.

And I know you are jealous of Eve, xxeviexx, who continues to beta my babble with increasing patience. Patience which I don't have, hence the fact that I will not bother looking for a synonym for the word 'patience' that begins with a 'b'.

xoxo

Nikki


	3. Church Bells? Relevance? WTF?

The Sunday morning church bells have always had a strange impact on him. No matter who he is, the parishioner's music arouses an undefined sadness in his throat, choking his intentions and rewinding his desires.

Four days after arriving in his own personal hell, he's surprised to hear the familiar sounds, and to feel the familiar sting behind his lids as he closes his eyes.

Shunned emotions frighten his demeanor, but when he looks up, he sees that her eyes are far away, shimmering with the past that threatens to drown them both.

Perhaps, he thinks as he swallows the songs, church bells do ring in hell.

* * *

**A/N: **I seem to have a serious lack of sexual tension in my fics. Just something that came to my attention as I was reading other ST fictions. Strange, seeing as it pretty much oozes out of the movie. Anyway, if you review then I will send you some lovely smut, neatly packaged and tightly wrapped so as not to leak into my writing. -snort- There's the sexual tension we were all waiting for.

And this story is based off of a scene from which book? It's science fiction. Gosh, all of my fics have these fun little games. I love it. (Oh, yes, I did just keenly avoid the overused pun. Sue me.)


	4. Uhm Title issues?

I. He's hardly given _up_

on listening

only given.._in_

After wishing (so, so much) that he **really could**

make himself at

_home_

is where his heart wishes it was still _welcome._

II._ Breathe_

breathe

**breathe**

_and _hold.it (there)

now, _just what the doctor _ordered

(a little more time, just a little)

III. What are you going to _do_

_now_

that it's all

f.a.l.l.i.n.g..a.p.a.r.t..?

You'll **dance, now, **

because it'll all

c.o.m.e..t.o.g.e.t.h.e.r

_Again_

IV. Bloody (Ha-ha, what a **joke, **what a _low blow_) calligraphy

across _faded _(sharp, so sharp, so clear now) innocence(?)

it hopes to be forgotten

like

_the wind_

_and the _sound

of joy, real joy, how can it still occur?

_And, she thinks,_

things that are _right _under _his _nose

V. One _rhyme, _please, one

so the _others _seem

That.much.more **provoked**

(Even though they _don't rhyme at all_, do they? _Do they?_)

VI. All of these _words_

a language so **crowded **with endearments

and her _accented slur _(see, you think it, you think, but there's no rhyme in these parts anymore)

makes it **just another **_almost _

(So many more to come)

VII. days? _Weeks? _**years?**

Painful realization

_that_

it will

_never_

_really_

_end_

(for him?)

while every year just

becomes

another

_Almost._

* * *

**A/N: **-pokes readers- Concrit, please? It makes my insides smile. Of course, compliments are also lovely. -winks-

YAY EVE! Go read her stories! Now! Because she's the most awesome beta ever!


	5. Just to feel new again

It's funny, really, how things lose their luster with time. How what was once the axis that you turned on has no shine, now. How perfection is so dull that even the sun can't imply a refraction on its chapped lips.

Those skeletons in the catacombs of his mind spew rhymes like tomorrow might astound the darkness, frighten it from where it's been so comfortably hidden in the largest niche of his mind. Memories have dug out the alcove with grotesque intentions; they sip the bloodlust like afternoon tea.

And of these unredressed crimes, he knows no more than she, or they. Anyone, really, who passes with pleasantries on their tongues can understand how he's fettered his accomplices into this precluded scheme. It's so simple to take advantage of death's own retribution, for it mirrors his misery with masochistic eyes.

What's more is the predictable immolation of his last dying wish, of his only fighting angel. It's all too simple, the utter deceit, to practice imposture upon those with such a desperation for innocence.

And so the impunity is continuous, every victimized form greeted with the same sphinx-like onyx eyes, every crystalized drop of life adding to the pixilated graveyard in the etchings of his delirium.

Really, what more can you ask from a head that harbors vengeance? What more is there to request from a hand that harbors murder?

* * *

Mmmmhmmm . . . Yeah. Sorry it's been over a week. I've been trying to be puntual, but Amy and I went on a face painting adventure on Friday for community service. It was rather amusing.

No beta for this one, because . . . Because. My reasoning is too abstract to spell out in letters.

Savvy?

Reviews make my insides smile.


	6. The pies are people, too!

I. He says,

don't let _them _fool _you,_

my **heart, **my (love)

as long as you _beat _I won't **lie **(but if you

stutter,

_I will too_)

they say it and _laugh_

for if hell **chews you up**

It _certainly _won't

spit you back out again.

II. The **living **only **live**

because

death _is _death, you see

(nothing)

else

but that

)is where you've got things all (wrong?) **inside-out**(

III. things that _rise _from the ashes

first have to _f a l l _into the **f i r e**

And he waits (patiently?)

Hopeful for the _first fall_

that will beckon the **last**,

_smoking her like a second-hand pipe_

IV. But where _have _you been?

leaving the loneliness all

on

its

_lonesome_

while (two. who?) became the **definition**

you sit alone

chewing on bones

that build

the (life size?) figure of _what used to be_

it's almost complete

but it _won't_

have

**a heart.**

V. he'd be **nothing **but the

irrational?

Fear

that kept you u/p at night

but _he's b.e.c.o.m.e._

The **irrational**

hope

that won't let her

awaken

VI. this (_un_just) goes to

s h o w

y o u

that there is **no such thing**

as an _unrequited _sleep

only one

that

moves undulating

breaths

_through pieces of _(glass?)

So **shattered**

that even dreams can't solve the puzzle

.

**

* * *

**

A/N:

Yeahh. I was sick today, so I decided to update again.

This one is another one based off of a song, and stanza three probably gives the biggest hints.

On that note, the last one wasn't even a question, but . . . Eve got it right :P I wrote chapter five after being inspired by Edgar Allen Poe's The Cask of Amontillado.

So, yeah. Reviews are pretty cool.


	7. Hold your head high, heavy hearts

I. _manifestos _outside of

the window

_like _**broken glass**

is the conversation

of

_bedside manner_isms

(or lack there of)

II. _Checkmarks_

like (threats)

in disguise

like _stars_

but **not really,**

I (believe you) heard me wrong

III. Get

her

out

of

her(e)

_mind_

like

zippers

and

buttons

that won't come undone

(because nothing ever does)

IV. Raindrops

on

a fire that _won't go out._

And (absurdities?)

Slip from **gritted teeth**

_tragedy _

is only what you

_make it out to be_

V. Oh, _sir_

do **tell me your story**

and

when I can (find it?) In my

_heart_

to pity you

I will have **joined you**

_once again_

VI. Sounds in the

night

(but isn't it always?)

Night

like crunching bones

like bloody stairs

like too many comparisons

to a life that's

like

_another world_

VII. These increments

are _perfection_

is

not only in the **eyes **of the beholder

but the _soul_

and the

_soul_

is

just

another

_world._

* * *

**A/N: **Ah man, it's been a while :O

Anyway, I'm alive. Just busy. Soccer's over and such, so I'll be writing again.

And I was uber inspired on Tuesday. Panic at the Disco was purely amazing . . . Holy wow.

Reviews are love!


	8. I'm noticing nothing again

I. _You are_

not what they _say_

that it's **unwanted**

but they _mean_

that it's

**unknown**

and to know _you _would (not)

be to be to _know _you.

**at all**

II. Say it like it's

_contagious_

while living (?) your life

like _quarantined _

(lust?)

In the _eyes of this demon_

there's only _dreams _

of what they **told you it**

**was(n't)**

III. The _first _on the scent of a

**good liar**

but the _last _(one?)

to admit to the _lies_,

she's **burnt out**

like smoking

_guns_

_candles_

_lives_

lead to the **fullest, **but never to be remembered

IV. We'll just _cash that_

**loyalty**

_right in,_

because your value(s?)

Has gone down _drastically_

in the latest

(crash) news,

is this _news _

to you?

V. _Hold _your breath

your heart

your hopes

your _head_

high, because

_as long as it's still on your head,_

you've got **something**

going for you

you've got that _angel _on your shoulder

but _no matter which way you _turn,

she's **gone **without a (trace)

VI. _Can't you _**believe **(it's)

the _changing _of (ways)

fragility marks the (end?)

Of _permanence, and _you,

**you**

are the _compassion _

that is the beginning of

(what, now?)

VII. _Chewing on glass_

may make the unpleasantries

**seem cordial**

_like wine, but more addicting_

Addiction like the _verdict_

in front of the days

behind the nights

and everywhere you _try to see_

but

love

it seems like yesterday we _said_

but, _love,_

it's been a while.

___

**A/N: **And hasn't it, though?

In the latest news, I have the overwhelming desire to write romance, though the reason why is completely beyond me.

Have I mention that this band is the second most inspiring thing I've ever heard? .com/bimmusic

WOW, guys, listen to that. It's good stuff.

Tugging on your heart strings and all that jazz,

Nikki


	9. Chapter 9

I. Humming insensitivities

_spitting _sin

spouting rhymes

and crying

**liar,**

**liar,**

_city in flames_

II. You _say _what

you mean to _say_

_is _

that it never meant _anything,_

but

_everything to_

her

to you

it's only what it's

_not_

III. In that _light_

_or _lack there **of**

she can almost be _beautiful_

but in this _light_

_firelight_

she could almost be

**dead**

IV. Time travels

like light

fast

like light

like time

_travelers_

work like clocks

like time

time

like relativity

relativity

like _reality_

is like

_time_

V. _Love?_

Slang, it's but

**slang**

for the

_stitches you'll need_

for the

(scars?) _Pain_

it's more broad, try it next

try it now

_Pain_

(it's too good)

_at least_

you're numb with the

cold

eyes

smolder

heated

eyes

_hate_

VI. Run for the hills

and

come _back and forth_

when your _head_

stops (spinning?)

Doubting _it_

is nothing more

or less

than

what the years

_had in store_

_for you_

for me

VII. The old sound of

_retribution_

_revenge_

so full of music

the sound of

_one song while the walls cave in_

sing it the sound

sing it the truth

sing it the word

_revenge_

like

_time_

_._

________

Oh bajeez, I was home sick today, I wrote more foolish nonsense. Wow, really, Evie, when am I _not _sick?

There are only a million and five song references in here. And I keep forgetting to mention all of the previous references that no one caught . . .

Chapter six: Title reference to a movie. C'mon, guys!

Chapter seven . . . Well, the title is from The Academy Is . . .'s The Phrase that Pays, my fault for not mentioning that one.

Blehh. There are probably more. Did I mention Thank You For the Venom for chapter six? Mhmmm.

Well, whatever.

Aching throats and Advil,

Nikki


	10. Reading lips

I. Eyes are to soul

as (soul?) is to _lies_

as lies are to **her**

and he's become _so_

_accustomed_

to matching the **words**

to

the

_faces_

that it's all just a _game, _

but when was it **not?**

II. Poor _you, _

**dear,**

are the _epitome_

of disaster,

the world is watching _you_

_and_

_it_

_does_

_not_

_like_

_what_

_it_

_sees._

III. Nightmares,

_nightmares_

deceiving like the return

of love

_lost_

and in only _minutes_

it's no longer

_over her_

_it's over _**her**

dead (?)

_Body_

IV. He knows _nothing_

of the sin

until he knows

_everything, _

and by **then, dear,**

you'll be _covered_

_in gasoline_

_kerosine_

from the **light**

you've shown him, quite

_literally,_

though you don't

_know it yet._

V. This love is

_shallow_

these lies are

**deep?**

Like _sinking sensations,_

so overused,

and

you

do

_not_

_know_

what it _means _

(to sink, a verb, meaning to _(have? Be?)_

An _unpleasant _

sensation (but smiles still)

from _apprehension_

_or_

**dismay**

VI. She _knows _

he's watching as she _speaks_

(she speaks, he thinks, she lives unto others where he

does

not)

but something _else, _she knows,

now

she thinks

_you seem not to care_

then

she mouths clearly

_but you _

_read_

_my_

_lips._

* * *

**A/N: **I get funny thoughts while listening to Marilyn Manson at 3:00 in the morning. ANYWAY, merry Thanksgiving to all of you. Hope you had a good one. We did Tex Mex, it was a good time. Again, two or three song references in here, but I think they're a bit more blunt.

Oh, and, guys. Soylent Green is people! XD


	11. Dream of demons while you sleep

I. Life was _living_, after

_all_

that

she had been

**alive**

but now with (un?)expected _guests_

she can be at _peace?_

In **pieces**

II. _Cold_

_so cold_

so

**warm**

if you catch the

_drift_

**cold**

_drift_

_catch the _cold

draft

like

_cold_

drifts carry

**death**

III. He _watches _(different from seeing, you know)

her work, she works

_quickly _

around (danger?)

_Sharper than his words_

he thinks

it

_unwise_

of her to do so with

her

heart

_so boldly placed_

_upon her sleeve _

IV. _Sounds_

**Bells**

they come for him

through _cracked mirrors_

**she can't breath**

he thinks

_she's not here_

he knows

V. blemish

upon

blemish

_upon_

lives that are no longer recognizable

(but she sees you yet, you know)

like _the past _(is passed, but

it's still in your mind,

you know)

_you heard her voice,_

spinning labyrinths through

thoughts _unprepared, but ready_

the Minotaur in his mind is _too tired_

VI. She sees

_patterns (_nothing periodic, you say?)

He sees

_red_

saw

_black_

saw

_something you_

_never_

_want_

_to_

_see_

_again_

VII. It is _incorrect_

to

**love**

something which you never

_had, _but you love him

still

and

always

_won't _(you weren't ready for that

he was ready for that

they were ready for that

_so where were_

_you?_)

___

**A/N: **Mhmm. So I was listening to The Academy Is . . . which always makes me think of William Beckett (a lot of things make me think of him, possibly because he's gorgeous) and thinking of Bilvy makes me think of Anthony (Becket twin, _Beckett twinnn!_) and as a result I decided to write . . . there's a lot of myth inspiration here, an a bit from the song 'Down and Out,' by above-mentioned band.

So, besides the Minotaur myth (a bit hard to miss, no?), what did I reference?

Northern downpour sends its love,

Nikki


	12. It's snowing again

It's snowing again, the gentle accumulation creates a tainted brown mess under his feet as he walks, looking mournful and stolid like a homeless soldier.

Does time really pass this quickly? Time should be longer, for surely time helps one to forget. And if time is just an idea, just like winter beauty, then he should be able to close his eyes and picture himself somewhere else.

Somewhere where things can perhaps be real, true, unperturbed. The snow could glean on the streets, white and blinding, something altogether less sordid than London's December aberration.

He tries to remember what winter used to be like, but finds that the idea of passing time has erased any fondness from his memory.

It's a start.

XxXx

As long as she ignores the muddy collection and simply looks at the sky, the very idea of snow is mollifying. She knows it's nothing but her mind's cliched prejudices, but her love is just a predilection as well, is it not?

She stares until her mind makes everything nebulous, only looking away as the sound of the door opening gives her a fright.

He passes her with a short muttering of acrimonious words; it's not much of a greeting, she thinks, but still . . .

It's a start.

* * *

A/N: Some of you might remember a story I wrote last February (wow) called 'Snow.' It's still my favorite thing that I've written, and since we're getting our first big snow storm of the year in Connecticut today, I was thinking of it. This is kind of a sequel, kind of an experimentation of my improvement. I'd love it if you read the original, because I still like it a lot :)

And, to quote last February; "Snow is such a pretty thing, for all the trouble it causes." And quite the inspiration, too.


	13. Chapter 13

I. in _over _your head

but

**under**

your feet,

she's (both)

here

and

away

**away from here**

II. It's **addiction**

one more

time

_just walking by_

walk away

**away from here**

III. kiss, kiss

_it's only fair_

the

same

thing

again

_throw back your _head

and

(laugh?)

_Swallow_

IV. why give the same

(Old?)

Misery

a new _name_

we've been _under this_

before

which way does **time**

go

again?

V. The

**word**

has a metallic

feel

taste

_lush_ is the heart

that beats

only

for

**loss**

VI. _born and it's_

**cold**

_grow and it's_

tangled

and _lose_

that smile, not real,

really

faux, not _false_

because we **know**

it's not _that_

(it's _never _that!)

VII. _Short but it's _

**there**

and it's coming back,

don't

fret

now

.

But it's soon

that you'll go

come here

to _rush_

her away

**away from here**

* * *

**A/N: **Unmistakable reference to my latest obsession, House MD. Because it's basically the most amazing thing ever. Hugh Laurie is my new favorite person. XD

Alrighty, I'm alive!


	14. Reality is Irrelevant

I. _Give me lust_

because

you **know **it's there

_anyway_

what

were we (saying)

that _you're just another_

tragedy

that's yet to unfold

II. Give me _truth_

does anyone

_tell it _anymore?

Give me something

**one thing**

_anything_

that (screams?)

It's

all

just

a

_test_

that you've **failed**

III. _Give me solace_

**everyone's lying**

dying

begging

to get _out of _here

is the way

things should be

IV. Give me _passion_

this feeling

like not feeling

is it what you _wanted?_

does this **sound**

**familiar?**

(Does she _feel_

_familiar?_)

V. give me **hatred**

static is this

the sound

_of something more?_

But less

less than you

expected

_and imagine_

what it

could

have

been

VI. Give me **confrontation**

_she never wanted it_

but she'll **take it**

quick as she can

_a chance_

to be

what

she's

**not**

VII. _Give me a break._

it's just the _worst_

thing he could **do**

not _practical_

hardly **appropriate**

_except_

to ruin everything

and _then, _

then, my dear,

_it's everything_

_____

**A/N: **So, apparently my age of getting actual reviews has passed . . . but that's okay, I'll write anyway. If anyone reads this, I'm interested to see what they think the inspiration is. There are two right answers, technically. And . . . there's one random line in there taken from House, again.

On a more random note, I adjusted my profile for the first time in forever.


	15. Hammers and strings are following me

I. Look _closer_

you'll (see?) it

it's _lines _and

**clouds**

and _hammers and chords_

and those

**masochistic **kisses

from _tired lips_

II. She's all **contrasts**

_nothing _like you'd

imagined

(remembered?)

_It's _**modernized love**

and

_opposite attractions_

and **slow **stares

from _changed eyes_

III. He's (discarded, of course, by now)

memories

_forgotten _ailments,

something like

_that_

**anyway**,

is irrelevant -

(_reality_, love, is

**irrelevant**)

IV. Say yes

say yes

say yes

_say yes_

just like what he

(wants?)

His **words**

no longer seem whole

fragments of fragments

of stolen **commands**

if only you'd _stay_

go

leave this place

(but don't forget to return)

V. Someday soon

_not_

**too far off**

you'll grow into your face

your body

your name

you'll _fit your shadow_

those **harlequin outlines**

that follow the scent of **bloodlust**

VI. _make it work_

foolish girl

hardly grown

hardly different

(**still the same?**)

_He's not_

so step back,

you'll go off

forget

regret ever caring

_start soon_

**hold your breath**

___________________________________

**A/N**: Gosh and bother, what's this? She's still at it? Well, whatever. I'm sure you've all got better things to do, I sure do - Cameron's dean of medicine tomorrow, I'm sensing chaos! But for now, I'm stuck massaging my temples and popping Advil. Life's a party with Nikki.

Anyway, some borrowed phrases include:

Reality is irrelevant is a line that's used, I suppose, in many random things, so it doesn't really need to be excused. But I stole it from House, which I (still) don't own.

Say yes (in that repetitive order with that emphasis) is technically from Taking Back Sunday's Set Phasers to Stun.

That's pretty much it, I think. Good stuff.

Reviews are like chocolate!


	16. I'll tell you who you are

I. It's _fire_

is all

**it's distractions**

it's _take what you can_

(before it's too late?)

It's the (taste)

of

_sin_

of blood

of sweet melodies with underlying tones

II. He's unchanged

_(not that anyone knows it)_

she says that

the years have been

**unkind**

(but all they've done

is

_pass_)

It's the mask that's (come off)

_faded_

to pale tones

and dark eyes

and **everything**

that's been there right from the beginning.

III. such a crude language

crude words

crude _blood_

six stages

sick minds

in **perfect correlation **

_alpha_

_beta_

_delta_

IV. Me dire qui vous

_aimez_

et je vous dirai qui

vous **êtes,**

my love,

because we **define **each

other

(so much so that we're

hardly

alive

hardly in

_life_)

V. Born to

_kiss and _(kill?)

**Never tell**

always _secrets_

_always _**wishing**

always wanting what you

**can have**

but _won't take_

.

___

**A/N: **Thanks to Eve (xxeviexx) for the beta, this girl is basically the cheese to my macaroni. **Go check out her amazing stories**, now.

Umm. What else? I like II the most, probably because it was the first character exploration that I did after theorizing that maybe Sweeney Todd isn't a _new _person, but just someone that was hidden. If you watch House, you'll see the resemblance to the character James Wilson (he's portrayed as sweet, gentle, and caring, but appears to have an underlying person - he's persistently flirty, somewhat vain, and has been married three times). So tell me what you think about the idea.

And I promise I'll get that Ben/Sweeney piece done soon, the idea continues to fascinate me.

OH. The French in stanza four translates to "Tell me whom you love and I'll tell you who you are." It's my absolute second favorite quote ever.

And I like how my author notes are always longer than the fic. Does anyone actually read this far? I actually occasionally say something useful . . .

xoxo

Nikki


	17. We've come so far

I. Break down

Break _out_

break into tiny pieces with no chance of clean resurrection

_So many _ways to **break**

he's **not sure**

which one he'll (choose?)

II. She hasn't a hope

not one _dream_

doused aspirations

for these blasted days,

**weeks**

_how long will this last?_

Give me mirrors,

_fire_

break through the glass,

across the wall

_stains_.

III. Come _here_, my love

his lips lie

his eyes are _blasphemies_,

**fear me**

Seconds seem longer

breaths seem shorter

so

stop

_breathing_

VI. Force it,

_fake it_

change the tempo

of this sick dance,

change the beat

change the plan,

change your _mind_

and grab the knife in the middle of the night

take one

V. he plays a risky game,

one where _he _isn't the one under **fire**,

but she, so soft, so **breakable,**

(could? _Would?_) take the bullets

one

two

three

riddled, like months she's spent wondering

_how_

_long_

_will _

_this _

**last**?

____

**A/N**: She's alive! I'm on a writing spree today, and I would simply love it if you fed my ego with some lovely, long reviews, telling me that I'm terrible, wonderful, or anything in between.

As a side note, these poems give my word processor a heart attack, all those grammar lines! It's quite the tragedy.


	18. Break Me

I. hear this,

these _calls_

these hopes from long forgotten places,

these caves,

cave ins,

_pray now_, don't _try,_

the idle mind (hopes)

for **love **but

_longs_

for desire

II. He's a bad habit,

lost nights in _cold regret_

the

first

thing

that comes to your _mind_

this, hear this, don't **forget it**

I warn _you_, you

need him, so

defenseless

he _thrives_

_on _

dependence,

_thrives_

_on_

you

III. You're not **lonely**, dear

just _lost_

_caught red handed_, you're clever

he doesn't laugh.

Cuts **so deep**

that you don't even _hurt_

anymore

he's alright, _really_, dear

it's

just

_all _that he's _got_

IV. he's got her _falling_, hoping

giving it all _away _for

**nothing**

we've been here before

said this before

_loved _before

she closes her eyes

forgets to wake up

_washes away_

silently

V. She has waited,

waited

what seemed like **forever**, your return,

every wound, every _ghost_

that will

never

let

him

**go**

(he never _really _cam home)

**A/N**: My ego got cupcakes from Pizzazz and I decided to write some more, giving painfully obvious references to the music which makes my life.

The songs for each stanza were Caves by Jack's Mannequin, One-Eighty by Summer by Taking Back Sunday, All That I've Got by the Used, Defend You by Silverstein, and, of course, The Ghost of You by My Chemical Romance. Just for the record, Caves is one of the saddest songs I've ever heard in my life.

Anyway, again, reviews make me write more. Speaking of reviews, or lack there of, if you're a fan of the show House, MD, and you're super cool, you could go check out my stories for said fandom. They're getting neglected, and they're my babies. Evie is just cool enough to have read them even though she's never seen an episode in her life - love that girl.

WHOA, more spontaneously irrelevant notes. Love.


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **Alas, I have discovered how to thwart you all! I have devised the clever plan to put my note in the beginning, as opposed to the end, of my stories; you will now have to pass through my babble in order to get to the drabble. Oho.

So, yeah, I haven't completely disappeared. Only almost. This . . . is not a poem. Nor was it, when I began it a few weeks ago, intended for Sweeney Todd. Read the first and third paragraphs and see if you can't figure out what pairing this piece was originally meant to suit . . .

Anywho, I hope you enjoy this. No beta, we'll see if that ends badly. Have fun :)

* * *

Secrets make you what you are, he knows. The closer he keeps his secrets the more entirely _whole _he can allow himself to be. If they share their secrets, he wonders, does that make them into one person or nobody at all?

They smile cordially at her as they walk into the shop, condoling for her as though a loved one has died, and she's not entirely sure why. The way that she laughs around him, they think, the way that she smiles, is a clear-cut opposition to the way she is otherwise.

You can't see her smile, they say, without knowing that they're lovers.

She's never hoped so desperately for a notorious London rumor to be true.

She wishes he would just tell her something, give her something to go on, anything at all to show some life.

He wishes that she would tell him less. Her secrets are so sparse for him now, he can very nearly see her melting away before his eyes.

As though her very composition is wavering under the strain of their unbalanced knowledge.

Every word she says, he knows, she is simply begging for something in return. It is why they can never love, that lack of balance, that complete nonexistence of anything even remotely resembling a give-and-take relationship.

He hears their words as though they are his own thoughts, and scowls at their stupidity. Their refusal to see anything that might cause them dismay.

Because how could they not see the disgust in his eyes whenever she smiles at him liked that?

How could they create such feelings from his own refusal to display them?

They must think of it, he supposes, as his secret.

Perhaps it is.


End file.
